I’ve been trying to get some sleep in the jeep. But the constant tug on the wheels against the patched road didn’t help. No usual lull. Just a constant shaking.
I gave up. I thought of missing my flight. In my head, the plane that was supposed to take me home crashed. What a sad thought. I almost died.
I imagine myself offering flowers to those who died in the crash. I went in the public offer-section before going to the airport for my rescheduled flight. I was about to shed a tear when the rumble of the jeep butted in. Suddenly, I’m reminded: I am in the jeep, back in the road.
I hailed halt; I am not good at gracefully ducking low and getting down this junk of a vehicle — not with a passenger seated next to me. I was careful. I was just scared of falling head down the concrete pavement, even from a close distance, even if it might only earn me a few bruises, and soundless giggles from fellow passengers.
I went inside the office. I brought with me these sad thoughts. And those unshed tears.